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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27014896">A Warm Space Next To You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/trajectory/pseuds/trajectory'>trajectory</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Transformers - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff without Plot, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:27:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>766</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27014896</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/trajectory/pseuds/trajectory</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Blast Off and Onslaught are supposed to be working. Brawl swings by.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Blast Off/Onslaught (Transformers)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Warm Space Next To You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>There’s no point to this, I just wanted fluff and vague not-cuddling instead of anything serious.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Brawl clattered down the hallway until he found the door in the base that the gestalt bond said his teammates were behind.</p><p>He banged his fist a couple times on the door to pretend he cared about courtesy (for the record, he didn’t) and made a couple of careless dents in the metal (eh, somebody else could fix that, Brawl sure as slag wasn’t going to; that was drone work, and what was one more dent in the place anyway?) before smacking the control panel and barging into the room without pausing for so much as a by-your-leave. “Swindle’s got that new cache of holovids from before the war we took from the neutral loaded up on the screen in the common room. You comin’ or are you sitting it out <em>again</em>?”</p><p>Onslaught looked up from the datapad in one of his hands he’d been pouring over.</p><p>He took his other hand off Blast Off’s knee.</p><p>Filework had successfully infiltrated the table’s entire surface. Stacks of datapads and inventory forms were piled atop a chair and a storage container that had been dragged over to where the couch and the table were to serve as impromptu extra workspace, which was claimed by procedure orders for new equipment. A communicator device pinned a clump of memo drafts in place so they didn’t slide off the table edge they were dangerously close to. One corner of the couch was accompanied by the two Decepticons in the process of plowing through their workload.</p><p>Or at this point, just one Decepticon.</p><p>The other one was asleep.</p><p>Slumped up against Onslaught’s side, Blast Off’s visor was dark and his helm rested on Onslaught’s shoulder. A datapad that had cycled into idling mode on the shuttle’s lap gave away he’d been typing on it when he had dozed off.</p><p>Aside from removing his hand, Onslaught didn’t move and stayed where he was, watching Brawl. “No. I attended the last two times, and I have time-sensitive obligations to accomplish for the foreseeable future.”</p><p>Brawl translated <em>time-sensitive obligations to accomplish for the foreseeable future</em> into <em>busy for the rest of this evening, frag off</em>, because the boss couldn’t resist toting out the big words to make himself look smarter than the other person he was talking to. That know-it-all shtick. Just made Onslaught sound like he’d eaten a grammar dictionary rather than download it, in Brawl’s opinion.</p><p>“And what about Blast Off?” Brawl asked roughly.</p><p>“He volunteered to assist me with the team’s backlog, but he dropped offline less than a half hour ago. Leave him be.”</p><p>“If he’s gonna’ take a nap, why didn’t you wake him up and tell him to go to his quarters, huh?”</p><p>“This nap was accidental. He thinks I haven’t noticed he’s been repeatedly skipping recharge lately to get more work done,” Onslaught made his voice matter-of-fact. Pointedly reasonable. “Blast Off could use the rest.”</p><p>Brawl snorted.</p><p>“Alright. Don’t want him getting distracted in the middle of a fight and taking a nosedive into the dirt ‘cuz he can’t remember to get enough recharge in.”</p><p>"That's behavior that should be reserved for an Aerialbot."</p><p>And since Brawl hadn’t discovered a sudden passion for the fiddly details of counting bolts and frag-knew-all (that was Onslaught’s job, not his) and doing inventory, he left.</p><p>Onslaught finished filling out the administrative form he’d been working on before Brawl interrupted and put the form into the stack of completed filework on one end of the table. It had grown noticeably taller than the small stack of incomplete filework on the other end. Onslaught proceeded to select an incorrectly achieved mission log, tugging it out of a different stack, and tried to decide where to refile it. Affected by the tug, the communicator pinning the memo drafts shifted, nearly tipping off the edge.</p><p>Leaning forward, Onslaught caught it and pushed the memos back.</p><p>His movement left Blast Off sliding sideways and in danger of face-planting into the couch, before Onslaught leaned back onto the couch and shoved Blast Off back into place. Thankfully, unlike Brawl, Blast Off wasn’t prone to rattling engines or noisy backfiring while recharging. Blast Off’s brow crinkled, mouth twitching, before subsiding and going still again, the expression on his face unguarded even with the close contact, a weight pressed against his plating.</p><p>Onslaught’s hand settled back on Blast Off’s knee.</p><p>For the sake of his reputation, Onslaught would have never permitted it if they were in public.</p><p>But in privacy, with no fear of outsiders stumbling across them without warning, there was no harm in having this quiet moment.</p>
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